2019.01.22 - The Council of the Vale
|location= Rowanwood |time= January 2, Year Unknown; Morning |emitter= Myrtle Snow, Nessa Du Valle |players= |npcs= |artifacts= |factions= |music= [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PK7kmRNfi4s Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, "The Council of Elrond"] }} Various parties have contributed to providing breakfast, since the energies of the Vale have been dedicated to more vital things, such as shoring up their defenses, healing the injured, and itself recuperating. Nessa herself has not been seen, save by Myrtle and one or two others, since the battle, which clearly took a great deal out of her. When she appears this morning, she's again dressed in a plain white robe, her hair bound up functionally out of the way, and despite her ageless appearance, she wears fatigue like a shroud of many years weighing upon her. She does not seem frail, only tired, as she moves to take a seat at the table, smiling wearily at the gathered company. Waiting for a moment to speak, when she has some measure of attention, she says, "I hope you all slept well, and thank you, all, who contributed to making food for everyone. I'm so very sorry I wasn't able to cook for you, and I'm very grateful to everyone who's made up for my shortfall as a host." Drawing a slow breath, she continues, "We hadn't finished our past meeting before Michael and his forces interrupted us, so perhaps I should start with a few facts. Yes, the world is in a state of apocalypse. The one who led the forces against us is Michael, and what we must do is find a way to defeat him and, if it is possible, to restore the world." She looks to Myrtle and the other witches. "Would you explain more about what we know about Michael?" she asks, clearly not feeling up to doing all the talking--or, perhaps, they simply have better information to share--or both. Myrtle, distinctively-dressed and bearing the most intriguing fiery hair, stands almost like a statue next to Bubbles, dressed in black as always and elegant -- a movie star, recognizably -- and then on Myrtle's other side, there is a slightly smaller, much younger woman with shoulder-length blonde hair, Cordelia Goode. While Myrtle's outfit is immaculate, Cordelia's is far less; it's obvious that she has been wearing that same dress for more than a day, and she hasn't been idle. Some may recognize her from the infirmary, mixing potions and philtres for the wounded. Myrtle inclines her head at Nessa's request, turning to face all those gathered at the table. "If I may introduce her to those of you who haven't had the opportunity...this is Cordelia Goode." She motions with a lace-gloved hand. "The Supreme." At that, Cordelia smiles very softly and slightly, and she bows her head. "I know there's another Cordelia around, so you can call me Delia, if it helps. My...mother used to call me that." There is clear pain in her eyes, but she banishes it almost instantly. "I'll let you explain, Myrtle." As Cordelia seats herself, Myrtle nods to her and turns back to the people. "Michael is a...very special boy. Gifted with magnificent magical command, one might assume he would be a witch. Or a warlock, as some schools label themselves, I can't tell you why." She lightly tuts, shaking her head. "In any case, while he might have exhibited some proficiency, even special quality, there was something else about him. Something not quite right." Myrtle waves her finger. "There was some impurity in him, some corruption that slowly gathered power. It may have been from his lineage, inborn in him and planned and planted from birth. It took time for it to gather strength. Some terrible act must have been the catalyst, I can't tell you what it was. All I know is that he is birthed in blood and touched by the Outside." She purses her lips. "And now he is the instrument of the Outside, to visit their hate and wrath upon the world." River Troy is a witch, well-known to Nessa and Myrtle for all his life, lingers near the two, but well in the background. He's here to learn, like everyone else, not to offer his own opinions. He's dressed in simple jeans and a plain sweatshirt, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. Ethan Steiner is with his packmates, standing behind and to the left of his alpha, Derek. He's been awake last night, too worried about his twin to get a lot of rest, but he's standing straight and tall, arms crossed over his chest when the briefing begins. Corey Griffiths is here as well, sticking close to Rey, as always. He looks troubled as Nessa and Myrtle begin to speak, though perhaps by more than what they're saying. Rey sits, but there's a growing restlessness in his manner, as though despite his upbeat manner he itches for some sort of action--or perhaps it's something less obvious. Regardless, he nods politely to each of the ladies of the coven, and then, hearing what Myrtle says, he visibly sets his jaw and gives a single nod, as if that confirms some suspicion. He doesn't speak out of turn, only folding his hands before him, glancing down briefly, then looking up again nods in understanding. Tachi, of course, follows all the mannerisms, nodding politely, standing, etc etc etc, but the important thing is that he looks awful. He clearly hasn't had any sleep yet, not surprising, he's a vampire after all, and considering he took up night watch last night, given the battle that took place yesterday and all that. The stress is also visible, all his years showing through, heavy on his shoulders, not surprising given the circumstances. He saw some of the others earlier this morning in the library, and it looks like he hasn't gotten any sleep, or possibly even fed since then. However, this doesn't mean he's not paying attention, quite the opposite, he's completely laser focused on what's being said, staying dead silent as he listens intently, as if his life depends on it, which, of course, it probably does. In situations like this, Oz can always be found stuck close to his packmates, this one being no exception. He's zoned out, eyes closed, in deep throught, it's unclear what he's thinking about. His expression is unchanging, and unreadable, but he remains silent like many of the others. Stiles is listening, sitting forward eagerly, with a look of intent concentration on his face. As Myrtle speaks, he starts to jot down notes. They're big, scribbly notes with lots of arrows, circles, and "???" here and there. He's got the sense to keep his mouth shut and listen, which is a sure sign that he really is taking all this seriously... and that he respects at least some of the people talking a whole lot. (Or maybe he's just smart enough to be afraid of witches or something.) And Derek Hale sits at the table, hands folded on it before him. His eyes go to each speaker, as they say what they have to say, and he visibly absorbs it, digesting every piece of information and adding it to what he already knows. He's been thinking of a strategy himself, this whole time. It's to be expected that they will come to some sort of plan, but Derek always has something ready for his pack, something he can do in case everybody else doesn't come through, or in case the worst should happen. He has to be there for his pack. They get the chiefest priority. Only once does he glance at Stiles's notes, which are about what he expected. He turns his attention immediately back to Myrtle, then he lets his gaze wander as she explains. So Cordelia Goode is the Supreme. The new Supreme. He'll have to find out how that happened, but he can assume. Whatever has already gone before, he assumes Michael was responsible for. And he's very confident that he's correct in that assumption. Very quietly, Derek leans closer to Stiles and whispers in his ear. It's soft enough to be missed by most, but those with special senses can probably make it out. "Wasn't she in that movie we watched together?" Meaning Bubbles. It was her latest, a festive picture for the holidays: A Christmas To Dismember. Jacob can tell before anyone else that Jason, beside him, is tense. It's not that it's a big leap in logic, of course, but Jacob is supremely attentive to his mate's moods. So, he silently reaches out to briefly take and squeeze Jason's hand, reassuring him as best he can... considering. Jacob is no expert on these weighty matters, but he call Shit Is Bad when he hears it. So, he mostly just listens... though he does cringe a little in embarrassment, raising a hand, to say quietly, "Um, 'scuse me, sorry to interrupt--but I'm not very up on my witchcraft, ma'am. What's a 'supreme,' besides a singer my dad listens to when he's trying to make me feel guilty for being young?" There's a touch of very mild humor in his tone, as if he's still trying to take some of the tension from Jason, even as he asks the question. Jason Christopher was standing behind his chair at the table when Nessa enters the room. In deference to their collective host he takes a seat beside Jacob Black rather than remaining standing. Nodding to Nessa and the other witches of the coven. There is a near palpable darkness hanging around him now, that was not present before the siege the day before. He listens quietly, having little to say just yet, but leaning forward. Their enemy now had a name, Michael. Now he knew who was responsible for what he had seen out there, beyond the forest. Thunder rolls distantly outside, as his mood is reflected by the weather. He manages to keep from growling, through force of will. He glances to Jacob as his mate takes his hand. With a shallow breath he calms and looks back to the witches. Even managing a slight smile when Jacob asks his question. Noell is around, quiely observing as ever, though at the moment he's more focused on staying in the background and simply listening as he often does. Ryan is, similarly, listening, but at least a bit more involved in the situation. "Michael...the Outside....what is the Outside? And, how did...I mean,...w-well, I'm not sure what to ask, honestly, but...I -know- I have questions." Standing with his arms crossed over his chest, Darius is silent and watchful. As if he expects an attack and his vigilance might be necessary to deter possible assassins. A faint sheen of dried sweat on his forehead, he smells faintly of the recent conflict, with grime under his fingernails and the occasional dot of blood spatter to tie his outfit together. "It's alright ma'am, your hospitality is as always, exemplary," he says to Nessa so that she can focus on the task of war planning, hoping that some small reassurance might be useful. Merek has come to listen to the meeting, and also has on his crimson-black attire with his cloak on also. The hood is up, and he takes a drink of some coffee he has with him while he listens to the people. Nessa smiles warmly at Darius, his words seeming to bolster her, even in her weary state. "That's very kind of you to say, dear," she says softly. "Thank you." Then, looking to Jacob, she says, "I think, perhaps, another can explain the Supreme best, but... the Outside." She looks to Ryan. "The Outside is that which lies beyond reality. That which, by its nature, is not reality. Some envision it a void, others as a well of Unbeing, others are pure corruption... and, in one way or another, those are all accurate. What is important to understand about the Outside, and those who come from it, is that they cannot coexist with us. For them to enter our reality is to corrupt an destroy it." She gives a wan smile. "It sounds xenophobic, I realize, but this is not tribalism. These creatures are not misunderstood people or even misunderstood alien beings. They are the antithesis of life as we experience it, and they twist all they come in contact with." Nessa pauses, gathering her thoughts, and then says, "What we know of what happened is this: the world was sundered at some point in the past, and it has tried to heal itself, but that has failed. The Outsiders have acted through Michael, a powerful mortal agent, through means we don't fully understand, and they have further weakened the world by wreaking mass destruction across it using... every means they could. And now, our only true hope is to find a way to defeat Michael, drive back the forces of the Outside, and somehow heal our broken world." She smiles again, still faint. "No small thing, I concede." A tiny, slight smile comes to Myrtle's lips as Jacob voices his question. She waits until Nessa has explained her part, and then Myrtle begins to address her own. "The Supreme is a witch of superlative power. After passing the test of the Seven Wonders -- which is to say, being able to do seven magical feats that are standard for most of us -- a potential Supreme may accept her power. This is typically given over by the Supreme who is stepping down, though the process can be different in...extenuating circumstances." She purses her lips at that, and Cordelia noticeably flinches, just for a moment. "The Supreme is expected to unite, guide, and protect the coven." Myrtle continues, in her explanation. "Of course...the Supreme also defends the coven, wherever necessary. She -- or he, as the case may be -- is our ultimate power. Our greatest single figure." With that, she looks to Cordelia, who seems not to have noticed, or is pretending that she doesn't see it. Bubbles, then, takes the opportunity to speak. "I am Bubbles, Bubbles McGee. You may have seen me on the silver screen." She smiles a dazzling sort of smile, then adds, drily, "Well, maybe one of those procedurals you see on CBS. Anyway, I have the power we call Lectio Animo. The power to read the soul. Yes, all of you here...bright, upstanding, steadfast. But that Michael, there's nothing of redemption there." She shakes her head gently. "There is no good in him, nor anything human left there. But that woman with him, and mark my words, she'll be with him next time too, there's nothing. A void. If she has a soul, she leaves it at home when she goes out. Be aware of that." Hearing how Cordelia became the new supreme, Tachi frowns, only serving to make him look worse. Of course that would mean something happened to Fiona. She can't have just stepped down, or Cordelia wouldn't be acting this way at the mention of her. So many questions, but Tachi doesn't ask, he can find all that out later, but right now he needs to focus on the immediate danger. Or...perhaps some sleep. Jason Christopher glances at Jacob a moment when Nessa describes the Outside. Dark, twisted versions that can not co-exist with their counterparts. It sounds so like what they went through months before. He would have to speak to Nessa about that. But for the moment he asks quietly, the one thing he really wants to know right at this moment. "Can. He Die." He looks up at the assembled witches, his eyes intense. "Can Michael be killed?" Because if not, he will eventually win a war of attrition against them. Jason didn't believe it would be that simple. But it was at least worth asking, since he had no real problems with doing so, if it were possible. Otherwise they'd have to find a hard way to go about this, likely the latter. Ryan listens to Nessa speak, then slowly looks toward Jason, then back to the group. "Will killing one person actually change anything? Or...one not-person, as it might be? If I understand things right, and I probably don't, the Outside is somehow now connected to here, right? So, wouldn't we need to...disconnect our world from theirs? Is that....how that works?" Ryan is -super- confused. Darius nods his head slightly at Nessa, and then goes quiet, his eyes open and his senses open. Hearing Jason speaking to the essentials of the situation, he nods a bit. "Yes. Would it be sufficient to rip his head off and dump it in quick-dry cement? I've found that works on most things. Throw some extra wards on there and you've got yourself a stew?" he questions. His hands sliding into his pockets when he suddenly notices the grime under his fingernails. Merek listens while he settles on a couch in the hall, and drinks from the coffee. "So, my question is this... Why us?" he asks, as he motions a bit, "I am hardly that skilled or really have any knowledge about the situation." He watches all the people. "What lives may die," Nessa says softly, regarding Jason with an expression that may be recognized as quite complex. There's much behind it, yet perhaps most of all and most obviously, she's looking at him sadly. "And, it seems there is no choice but to end him. There is, as Bubbles said, nothing left of the man he once was." She sinks a bit deeper into her chair, adding, as she looks at Ryan, "As to severing the link to the Outside, we believe that killing Michael will be a necessary part of that. He is, from what we can understand, the strongest tie from the Outside to our world... though there may well be other links, as well. Those must also be found and severed." Looking to Merek, she raises an eyebrow and manages a look of mild humor. "Whom else might we have summoned, dear? As to you, personally, you're a wizard. Surely that's reason enough?" "If he ever was a man," Bubbles comments. "By which I mean human. I'm not convinced. There's nothing there I can recognize." She makes a face of abject disdain, before shaking her head and reaching out to pick up her drink and take a sip. Myrtle's response comes after that, with a few seconds of visible contemplation. "As Nessa said, everything that lives can die, we can assume. But may I say, if you intend to kill Michael: good luck getting close enough. He was toying with us, the other day. The fight between him and Fiona -- our Supreme until then -- destroyed a house. He wiped out, through the element of surprise, a number of our own." Her voice raises in volume and force with every word, and it's clear she's been inordinately agitated by the topic. Cordelia reaches a hand up to place on Myrtle's own, looking up to her with a smile she hopes is reassuring, and then she turns to those seated before them at the table, smile fading, face serious. "There are other possibilities, but we can't rely on them. For now, we're going to have to do our best to get rid of any connections the Outside has to the world. Only then can we have any hope of turning the tide. And if we can cut Michael off from his power source, that may be a way to weaken him. There are, as I understand it, places where the Outside has crept in, and where he can continue to draw power. He may not even be the only agents of the Outside here on Earth. If so, we have to destroy his allies. If we can isolate him, we might have a better chance." Rey has sat, silent and still, for all these weighty revelations. At this point, he straightens a bit in his seat and lowers his hands to the arms of his chair. "So," he says slowly, "We must kill Michael, who is very well-protected. We must sever the links to the Outside. And then we must find a way to clean up the mess." He drums the fingers of one hand on the arm of his chair in a way that would seem casual, were it not so tense, the same tension showing in his general body language, his voice. But he offers a lopsided smile in spite of it all. "Sounds workable. It's a pity I don't have my bike, I'd likely be able to ride in easily enough, and I never made it out, at least that might be one thing handled." He draws a sharp breath. "But, lacking that--perhaps we should consider sending out scouting parties to seek out these other anchors?" "Sounds about right," Tachi says. He takes a deep breath and seems to be trying to hold it together for the rest of the meeting. Unfortunately, because of his lack of sleep he doesn't really have much to contribute at this moment, he's...really hoping there's not another attack right now. Stiles goes a while seemingly not having heard Derek's question at all. He's flipping pages, scrawling furiously, and occasionally drawing lines across both pages or, even suddenly scribbling asterisks and flipping to other pages to indicate connections. This is a lot harder without a nice, big cork board, or at least a whiteboard. Eventually, his head pops up a little, and he spits out the lid of the pen he's been holding between his lips. "Yeah. Holiday horror, instant hit, sure to be a cult classic, used almost all practical effects and had that one scene that set the new record for most fake blood used in a single scene?" He looks to Derek, confirming he's answering his question, then flips a couple of pages and points at a drawing that might be a spider... or an octopus... or, given that he's written "THE NEMETON!?" under it in huge, wild letters, it's possible it could be a tree. Whatever it is, soon he's back to writing furiously. It's so much harder to do this without colored string.... Derek patiently waits, and when he gets confirmation from Stiles, that's enough for him. He makes a soft little sound, almost a grunt, but really too quiet to qualify. He slowly nods his head a few times, then takes that time to speak. "I agree. It's smarter to cut off his support and weaken him. That way, in case he panics, he has nobody to call on. Nowhere to turn. It's suicidal and reckless to try to attack Michael, as things are now. We have to whittle away any support he could call on. He's too dangerous with that." When Derek does deign to speak, it's usually for good reason. He tends to reserve public speaking for when he has something worth saying. Jacob looks at Jason, nodding at the question, then again at the answer. He sits forward as Derek speaks, and he says, "That plan I like. If we can tear this guy down until he's vulnerable, then we can take him out in a fight that we can win. When you go up against someone really strong, you have to think like a pack, not like a hero. Same's gonna go for him. And if we take away his 'pack,' then he's got nobody to fall back on. So I say Derek's right. Let's take everything away from him and see how he likes it, then crush him when he's got nothing left." Jason Christopher meets Nessa's gaze, that darkness still hanging over him. They know one another well, and if someone needs to die, his hands were bloody enough already. A little more wouldn't matter now. His gaze fell to the table top as the other witches spoke, and then other voices as well. Places of power, objects, things that might weaken Michael. It was a sound strategy, one he agreed with. Attack the enemy when they were weakest. Jason wasn't interested in fighting the enemy, just ending them. With a shallow breath Jason started to speak again quietly. "Several months ago, a sorceror used a enchanted mirror in the middle of the Olympic National Forest. Everything supernatural for miles fell under it's spell. It created dark, twisted versions of our lives." Outside thunder rolls again. "We managed to break the spell, and confront the sorceror. But he called the twisted versions of each of us out of that mirror. It had a reflection of a dark place in it, with red curtains." Jason looks up from where he was staring at the table top. "We destroyed the duplicates, and the sorceror entered the mirror. It was given into the care or an occultist named Micki Foster and brought to Seattle. That mirror seemed to alter reality in a limited scope for a time. I believe it is important, it may have even been a precursor to this. A test." Ryan looks toward Noell, who looks back to the fellow, both looking similarly lost. Not in a way conveying a lack of understanding, but more in a general, cosmic sort of way. Ryan shifts from side to side, listening for the moment, letting the thoughts seep into his mind and stew. "I think I'm still a little lost on why -we're- here, all of us in particular, and...where we're from. I feel like I don't remember much from before now, actually, but...even once we've dealt with the problem, what happens then?" "Good," is all Darius says in response to hearing that the man can be killed. "Tactical targets are also excellent," he adds. Feeling that he has already spoken too much however, he goes back to silently keeping watch. "Better wizards," Merek tells them, while he nods. He then shifts his cloak about him while he keeps listening to them, "Are you sure that this is the only way? I don't like to think that, but... I don't know the situation," he adds. "What we're sure of," Nessa says gently, "is that our enemy must be stopped, that the tide of darkness must be stopped, that this destruction must be stopped. For the moment, that seems to mean defeating them, banishing the Outside, and then turning our efforts to healing." She looks to each of the others, lifting one hand, and says, "But, perhaps there may lie another way of answering that question by responding to another." Above her hand, an image of the Earth fades into being. "Why are you here? To be honest, we can't say--not exactly--but let me explain what I can. Once, there was the world, but the Outside threatened to destroy it." As she speaks, a swirling darkness surrounds the globe, squeezing it. "Higher powers, trying to give the world a better chance, split destiny. There was one world, there was another. Reflections, different paths of what could be." The image of the Earth shimmers and melts apart, until two Earths hover before her, the darkness between them. "It seemed for a time that two worlds could contain the darkness between them, that balance would be restored. That hope failed." The darkness grows again, now threatening to consume both globes, and so the globes seem to melt to liquid form again, flowing around the darkness and back together, still surrounded but no longer separate. "But the darkness could not be undone. It found a way in, and it infected a young man named Michael. And through him, perhaps through other things, the darkness broke the world. We, seeing that it could not be stopped, cast a spell of gathering. We do not control who it finds. Perhaps Fate does. Perhaps not. But those who the spell finds are pulled through the darkness. Most arrive safely. When they do, they carry with them... echoes of what was, or what might have been." She raises her hand, lifting the image of the Earth in her palm. "What those higher powers did was not enough. So it falls to us, those who actually dwell on the Earth, to bring things right. How will we do it? You are all people of talent, of skill, even of wisdom. Together, we must seek our answers. We can research magics and rituals. We can explore this broken world for clues, for that which might help us. And we can most certainly face and defeat our enemies. These are the things I believe we can do." Then, she lets the image of the globe float up and away, fading gently from view. Part of Merek's comment draws a glare from Myrtle, but it's not as severe as it could be. She doesn't comment on it, and even when it seems she might take a seat, she seems to decide not to after all. "We have already decided on a few possibilities of places and people we'll need to check on." Myrtle picks up the conversation's flow. "But we're not limited to those options. We can discuss them and make a plan of attack, as it were, though ideally there will be little in the way of fighting on our way. Anywhere we go, we must be on the defense. We simply don't have the assurance yet of an attack. But it's my belief that, as long as we go forward with circumspect thought, we stand a strong chance of fixing this. That," she holds up a finger, "is the realm of magic. And we are far better suited to weave its miracle than our enemies, who only perpetrate twisted obscenity." "And what be we?" Rey Devoss asks, an opalescent light in his eyes, "If we be not workers of miracles?" He rises, thumping a palm down on the tabletop. "I've heard clear objectives, my friends. We need to gather information, find clues, track down the right magic to do what must be done. We need to weaken our enemy's forces so he can be defeated. We need to save the world." He offers a grin, showing more confidence than he had earlier. "Come, now. Surely we can do at least one or two impossible things before breakfast, or what sort of champions are we?" "The kind that need sleep?" Tachi offers, but he can't help but chuckle. "Well, we know what we need to do. What we need to do now is, well, do it. Right?" Stiles looks up from his writing, glancing between all the others, and says, "I don't know much about magic, but there's a lot of places we could look. We can start thinking of things we can try, start putting together ideas." He nods a little. "Yeah, I've got lots of research to do." His face falls. "And without Google. I hope somebody's got plenty of pens and lots and lots of note cards." He glances to Derek, then goes back to writing in the notebook, now a more measured pace. "I don't have any pens," Derek immediately answers Stiles, as if he were prompted for a reply. "Or note cards." He looks down to the notebook, then up to the others around him. "But we should start putting together ideas. I agree." Jacob nods to Jason. "We should find Micki. We should find out what she knows, what the mirror might have to do with anything. It's a good place to start. Maybe there's other stuff we haven't thought of yet, other things that could give us an edge or a chance." Jason Christopher's eyebrows stitch together a moment. "That is why it feels like, there are multiple sets of memories. Why it feels like some people here I know, but with conflicting memories." He trails off, letting it all sink in, looking if anything even more dark than before. The idea that higher powers were manipulating them to that extent. It just made him even more annoyed. He collects himself though and then speaks quietly once more. "The world outside of Rowanwood now, is twisted. Infected with a bleak darkness. The color, the light, the life drained out of it. Drained out of everything that is still alive. It is not anything like it had been, no matter which world you came from." Jason looks at Nessa and the others. "I still believe the mirror may be important." He knew he could go for it, but he also knew others would not like him going so far by himself. First and foremost the person sitting beside him. Jason looks at Jacob and nods to him. "I agree, it is a place to start, a direction." "Information, then..." Ryan ponders this, looking around at everyone, taking in their comments and trying to get a feel for things. "What about...the spirit realms, or the astral realm, or the dreamscape, are they still reachable? It would take some time, but if it's possible, I can try my hardest to seek information." Ryan thinks on this offer. "W-Well, if we know what sort of information we're looking for. Otherwise, I can start going through books in the library." He's still rather quiet and preoccupied, but he realized the urgency of the situations. Darius does like everyone else and listens and follows along: "Can you locate any areas of focus? I imagine they'll establish some sort of rough defensive perimeter around any structure or object of magical importance to the connection to the outside, we also need to start putting together a map of where we are, can you tell us anything about where we are beyond what is immediately obvious?" Nessa nods slowly, taking in what's said, and offers another thin smile. "It does seem that there's much to do, many plans to make." She looks to Ryan. "I think you should work with some of the other witches, dear. They may be able to steer you in the right direction. It may be that you'll see something we haven't. As to areas of focus, we believe that the connections are physical links, such as the one embodied by Michael. These mirrors may prove another important lead in that direction." She rises carefully. "I'm very sorry, but I must rest again. I'm devoting all of my energy right now to shielding the Vale, and what little I can spare I'm saving for the next time we must defend ourselves. It's likely that--" She pauses, as if making a small change to what she'd planned to say, and says, "That Delia, Myrtle, Bubbles, or the other witches can offer more help than I, at this point." With a last smile and nod, she starts to make her way toward the door again. "Take care, dear." Myrtle quietly offers to Nessa, before turning to the table. But she doesn't pick up the words. Instead, she looks to Cordelia, as does Bubbles. Cordelia nods her head, clearly either assuming or sensing that deference, and speaks. "I can work with you. I'm a teacher. I like to help." Jason Christopher nods to Nessa as she stands to leave, standing up himself as she does. He glances down at Jacob and looks thoughtful. "We will need to pick a group to go along with us." With Jacob's pack being, well not present, they lacked their usual support. "How well do you remember some of the others?" He looks around the room, very few people here he knew well. But he had at least seen some of them in the fight yesterday. That was at least something. Jason Christopher nods to Nessa as she stands to leave, standing up himself as she does. He glances down at Jacob and looks thoughtful. "We will need to pick a group to go along with us." With Jacob's pack being, well not present, they lacked their usual support. "How well do you remember some of the others?" He looks around the room, very few people here he knew well. But he had at least seen some of them in the fight yesterday. That was at least something. This mostly to Stiles, but to others as well, Darius suggests, "We should start putting together a map and the like in a common area, perhaps we can make use of this room for it? A war room. I can try to maybe work with someone with magic to expand my particular senses to detect something useful," he starts throwing out ideas as Ms. Du Valle makes herself scarce. Stiles looks up at Cordelia. "That's good, because I at least don't understand this crap at all," he says, lightly smacking the notebook with the back of his hand. "And I'd really love to understand it more. If you can help us get a clue, I bet we can help actually figure out a plan for how to fix stuff." He glances at Jason and snorts. "Just leave me out of Mission: Unwolfable." He looks to Darius, though, and nods. "A map would be good. And, yeah, we can probably use this roo--" he pauses, looking to Myrtle and the others. "I mean, is it okay if we use this room? It's got a really good table, and it's right next to the library and all..." He grins a little apologetically. Tachi has been listening to the others, but finally eh stands up. "I'd be happy to help in any way I can," he says, "but I'm not at my best now either. I'm afraid I must leave, get some rest, but I should be back up and going this evening. Please let me know if you've made any plans, and how they include be. I'll do whatever I can." He smiles to everyone before walking, a little unsteadily, toward the door. Derek reaches a hand out, to rest it on Stiles's shoulder. He looks with him to the witches at the head of the table, as if to silently give his support to what Stiles requests. The alpha clearly intends to stay here and work out what he can. He doesn't say it, but then...he really doesn't have to. The way he looks, the way his eyes shine, everything about his posture make it clear that he is here to do his best, to support and to protect, and to lead where he has to. Derek gives a nod to Tachi, then folds his hands on the tabletop before him. He will wait for the time to speak his thoughts. For now, they will have to find a map and develop further strategy. Jacob looks to Jason. "Lots of these guys are good in a fight," he says with a shrug. "I'm pretty sure you could do like in that cops against gangsters movie we saw that time and just put together a team, like..." He waves a hand vaguely. "The Avenger League. Whatever was called." Jacob likes movies just fine, but he can't really pretend he bothers very much about remembering the details. Movies are more an excuse to ooh and ahh at explosions and stuff, or to cuddle and make out, but... well, the idea probably comes across. "But we should definitely find Micki. She'll probably have an idea what we should do, and... I mean, Sly was friends with her." Jason Christopher glances over to Stiles and chuckles faintly. "As good as you are with a shovel, it still wouldn't be wise. Besides." He gestures to the crazy notebook. "I think you will be much more useful here." He glances back to Jacob, nodding as Tachi leaves. "Yes, Sly should definitely come too." As much as the idea of placing his son in danger did not thrill him, he was very capable and as Jacob said, friends with Micki. That was certainly a consideration as well. All of that and the idea that Jason was not leaving his son alone during the apocalypse. "Of course." Myrtle smiles at Stiles and his catch of politeness. It still matters. Even in the apocalypse, it's important enough to Myrtle for someone to be courteous when they're a guest in someone's home. She approves of Stiles, generally. This just makes her more certain that he's the kind of young man she approves of. "You should feel free to use this room, within reason, for whatever purpose could assist us in repairing the lamentable state of the world." Bubbles smiles to herself when Jacob starts to talk about movies. "I was in that, you know. I was wearing an eyepatch. 'Lady Buccaneer', really ridiculous stuff. I loved it, of course." Cordelia, like Myrtle, seems more concerned with Stiles. "Sure. I can help you understand magic. I can do that, and...Myrtle, do you think you're up for a trip to Seattle?" "Bien sur." Myrtle folds her hands in her lap. "A trip might be just what's needed to clear the head and reinvigorate the senses!" She's trying to put on a happy face, but it's clear that she is trying. Before this ordeal, she could have pulled it off perfectly. Now, it requires more energy than she really can afford to spare. But Cordelia is the Supreme, and crucially important. Like the Queen on the chess board, she's immensely powerful...but vulnerable because of that. Besides, Myrtle reasons, in her thoughts, this may be a perfect opportunity to gauge the effects on the world. If Seattle is compromised, the problem is serious. If they're able to swing by Portland and it's corrupted, then hope will be something in very short supply indeed. At this rate, they may have to fall back to Ojai. "If you require accompaniment, I volunteer my services," Darius says to Myrtle and Delia both. He is otherwise simply thinking about their current predicament and how he might be helpful, his hands finally coming free of his pockets so that he can begin cleaning under his fingernails as discreetly as possible. Rey nods, taking all this in, and then says, "As to me, perhaps I can marshal a defense. I'll be quite happy to join in any ventures where I'd be helpful, but I'm a knight, and this is our castle--someone ought to be training and coordinating those who wish to protect the home front." He gestures toward the table. "When there are battles to plan, I will assuredly join in. If there are risk to take, you have but to ask it. Until then, I cannot sit idle, and this is a thing than I can do." Jason Christopher nods to Myrtle and the witch everyone was calling The Supreme. If there world had such a witch, with such a title. He did not recall it. The practioners of magic he recalled were more scattered. Though he did remember something about places to learn it, schools and the like. Perhaps there had been a supreme, he wouldn't have likely known. "Your company would be welcome as well." He pauses a moment and then says with a certain need. "It may be best if we know something about one another. We won't be leaving today, with prepaerations to be made. It is a good time to understand the skills and abilities we have access to." He glances at Jacob and, with a shrug, figures he might as well start. "My name is Jason Christopher, of the house of Lupus. Lord of the werewolves commonly referred to as the Children of the Moon." He adds after a brief moment. "Semi-Retired. In addition to being a werewolf, I also know some druidic magic, and have a measure of control over animals." It was a simple explanation, but for the moment that was all that was needed. Stiles grins a bit at Myrtle and Cordelia. "Y'know, until this, I don't think I'd have said that witches were totally badass. But you are, uh--if you don't mind me saying that?" He looks to Derek, smiling a bit, and then looks back to the witches. "I'd, uh, definitely like to learn... anything you want to teach me, if... I mean, if I'd even be able to. I might not be any good at any of it. The, uh... the Force isn't exactly with me." Oz has been completely silent, eyes closed, listening to the conversation, but finally he opens his eyes and looks to Derek. He doesn't speak, but his look is clear. Derek's the alpha, he will follow, all he needs is to know what to do, he'll do whatever he needs to for the world. Florence slips into the great hall barefeet - and much too late - with a big yawn on her face. Clad in a crumpled T-shirt and ruffled hair, it is pretty obvious she just left the bed moments ago. "What's all the conundrum..." she mutters, looking over the assembled people. Jacob blinks at Bubbles a few times. "Wow, really? I guess.... wow, yeah. Crazy." He grins, adding, "You were great. Probably my favorite. And, I mean, not just 'cause you were the sexy one." He laughs, clearly not at all troubled by saying so, as if there's not even the slightest chance of it being awkward. "Well, it's an honor to be working with Lady Buccaneer. Definitely never thought that would happen." He glances frequently to Jason, clearly most concerned about him, but seems, for the moment, comforted by his mate's decisive, even take-charge attitude. That's what Jacob's come to expect, even to need, where Jason is concerned, and for him it's a point of stability in all the chaos. "Enthusiastically accepted!" Myrtle replies to Darius. "Have you ever been to Seattle before? If not, we must take in the Space Needle. Everyone should see it at least once in their lives." She smiles at the praise from Stiles. That's the sort of thing that can make a witch feel like she can do anything! "Well, I don't mind." "Neither do I!" Bubbles chimes in. "I could use a little pick-me-up like that. And that, too." She smiles a bright Hollywood smile to Jacob's praise. "It does do wonders for the self-esteem." Cordelia looks somehow a little cheered herself, even if she still also seems absolutely exhausted. But she nods once and pushes up to her feet, walking over to where Stiles is sitting next to Derek. "If you don't mind, I can answer your questions better in the library. Oh! And Mr. Devoss," she gingerly lifts a hand. "Quentin wanted a word. He's in the kitchen." A lightly admonishing look is spared for Florence. It's a holdover from her days administrating Miss Robichaux's Academy. But this is Nessa's house, not hers, and she has no place to speak about domestic things. If Fiona were there...but she isn't. Without another word, Cordelia walks from the room, to wait in the library. Rey lifts a hand to Cordelia as if in salute, nodding, and says, "Noted! Then I shall proceed to him directly. Thank you most kindly. And I'll be in touch regularly, discussing matters of defense. It seems to me that any strain we can take off the realm itself can only be a good thing, aye? By your leave, then, ladies." He pauses in the doorway, dipping a deep bow, and then turns to sweep out of the room, clearly on his way to see Quentin. Jason Christopher would growl, but it would hardly do any good. He was the assassin, not so much the team player. In the field he would find out what everyone could do. Hopefully it wouldn't be to late then. He looks down at Jacob and says quietly. "I am going to go start packing things we may need. Starting with a trip to the forest for some supplies. I will see you in our room, let Sly know to pack as well." He glances around the room again, and then turns and fades away from all senses. If going out near the woods, he would be employing his night stalking gift. Florence blinks a couple times as Rey leaves, pretty much missing out on the context of the rest of the conversation. "What's going on? Are we abandoning the premise for some reason?" she asks as Jason talks about leaving before vanishing from sight. "I am sorry that I did overslept. But who puts an information meeting to the early morning when they plan to invite me?" she tries to tease as she steps closer. "Seattle? Yes, once or twice, but never to sight-see," Darius replies to Myrtle, but keeps the exact details of his trip vague, as he usually does. Not wanting to bore anyone with details of hunting trips in his youth. "The space needle is the flying saucer on top of the tower, right?" he asks after a moment, showing his age. Jacob gives Jason a look that clearly says he'll do as asked... but just as clearly conveys his amusement at the idea of him telling Sly to do things. "I'll tell him you said so," he clarifies, chuckling a bit, then turns to nod to the others. "Please excuse me, everyone. I, a teenager, must now go and play grown-up with a more teenage teenager, who happens to enjoy torturing me, probably all in good fun, for the high crime of being mated to his father." He winks to show everyone that he's mostly just trying to lighten the mood, then turns and heads out of the room, chuckling to himself in a way that clearly says, once again, no matter how dark things get, he refuses to be bleak about it. Derek nods to Stiles and manages something of a smile for him. The alpha will stay here and plan strategy, strikes, attacks. Thoughts run through his mind, thoughts of his pack and his land, his territory, all the things he's fought for, for so long...but all of that has to be put in order. Priorities have to be established. Right now, his top priorities are Stiles and the rest of the pack he has here with him. "Just so." Myrtle replies to Darius, then turns to regard Florence. At first, she seems a little disdainful, but the little bit of humor the woman attempts makes Myrtle smile just a little bit. "We are planning," she explains, in soft tones. "A strategy to strike at our enemies and weaken them. It's our best hope at the moment. Please, sit, contribute ideas. There is much to do." Bubbles, however, gets to her feet, primping lightly and then strolling over to Jacob. "Would you mind if I come with you? I'm admittedly feeling the early hour -- I'm a star, we don't get up before noon without a suitably obscene paycheck -- but I think I'd very much like to help, if I can." And she walks with him out the room, clearly intent on providing that assistance, such as it may be. "Sounds Painful. I mean planning and fighting. Probably a good thing I didn't come earlier, that stuff's giving me a headache." Florence notes as she steps to a chair, leaning over its backrest a minute before she takes a seat. "How about avoiding getting hurt? That just diminishes everybody's fun but the masochists, and I don't particularily see a lot of them here." Bubbles comment makes her chuckle and she nods. "See? that's my kind of girl. What need is there to leave a perfectly functonal bed in the morning then the night waves with thick ammounts of dollar bills?" Myrtle considers Florence for a moment, but she ends up only shaking her head once. "Painful or not, it is what we must do. It's past the point of people not getting hurt -- the hurt has been done, and we can only address it as we're able." She pats the surface of the table and then rises, sweeping, to her feet. "I shall return in a while, when I've assembled some supplies we'll need. Soon will come the time to strike, and we'll need to be ready." Turning to give an inclination of her head to all those in audience, she heads from the room too. Everything has started moving in earnest. The time has come for action. Category:Log